


You're Not A Dog, Are You?

by Hightress



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Also featuring Touch-Starved Kyotani, Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Drunk Yahaba, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Kyotani is an angry puppy as usual, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Swearing, Yahaba hates his life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hightress/pseuds/Hightress
Summary: Everyone looks like a dog to an intoxicated Yahaba.





	1. Tea and Confusion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralux/gifts).



> First multichaptered fanfic! Hope you'll like it, guys!

"Watari is a prick. Kicking me out of his house just because I was a bit drunk. What's the deal? I wasn't the one fucking pucking around - that was Kindachi. But did anyone throw him out? Of course not."

Yahaba rarely drank. It wasn't because he was trying to be a goody two-shoes or something, he just didn't like the taste of it. How it burned his throat and made him cough embarrassingly in front of his teammates. The only reason he swallowed that first glass of vodka was because Hanamaki dared him to and there was no chance he would back down from that. It became a problem when a glass turned into two, then three, and soon enough, Yahaba found himself flirting with Oikawa, out of all people. Of course the bastard took it upon himself to make fun of him. That didn't end up well, for any of the parties included. Yahaba somehow raised his fist to punch Oikawa - all respect he had for the captain forgotten in an instant - and the only reason the contact between his skin and the other's face didn't take place was because Iwaizumi stopped him in time.

Five minutes after that he was alone on the streets, talking to himself and feeling like the biggest idiot to ever live.

"I bet they have already picked themselves up and kept partying. Damn traitors."

To make things worse, soon after setting foot on the pavement it had started to rain, the cold water sticking his clothes to his skin and turning his carefully styled hair into a flat nest. He could already feel the beginning of a cold, but there was little he could do in that moment.

"Next time any of them decides to host a party, I'm not touching any of the alcohol. Like hell I'm making a fool of myself once again."

He was shivering, a simple white shirt helping him in no way to keep the warmth inside his bones. He would've done anything for a jacket or anything to cover himself and shield his body against the raindrops. An umberella would've been nice too...

Looking straight ahead, he didn't even see the hole full of water until the heel of his left sneaker fell into it, dampening his sock and foot in an instant.

"Fuck!" he cursed, the sound echoing in the silence of the night. "Does the universe hate me or something?"

That's when the first lightning struck.

Yahaba immediately took a step back, wet feet now totally forgotten, and felt torn between awe and fear.

"What the..."

Another bolt of light appeared in the sky, sounding even more powerful than the last. Two others followed in the next few seconds, painting the whole scene like something out of a horror film.

Yahaba didn't waste any second. He ran across the street, wanting nothing more than to reach home as soon as possible and get inside safely. He read enough articles about men who lost their lives due to a thunderstorm - and had no intention of living the same experience.

A small dog - a stray, probably - passed by him a hurry, looking even more terrified than the setter. His fur seemed to be of a golden color, dirtied by spots of brown across its back. Yahaba wondered why he was noticing such things in that moment, when fear was the only thing controlling him.

His gaze followed the form of the dog as it ran in the distance, the monstrous sound of lightning ranging again, and again, and again.

For a while, he thought that he could hear the ringtone of his phone, but he had no time to even consider checking it. He let the music float around him, distorted only by the shout of the storm as he hurried far from that place.

The stray moved his legs faster as well, running into a bush to hide when another thunderbolt hit the ground closer than ever before, targeting said bush with no mercy.

A pitiful barking noise could be heard in that instant.

That's what Yahaba's drunken mind grasped out of that uncertain reality. And that's what made him turn around in the middle of his sprint.

There were a few meters between his position and the place where he had seen the dog last. He didn't know what he was expecting to see there - a burned corpse? A bleeding hound? Or nothing? - but he still kept going in that direction, having a sickening feeling in his gut.

'What is it?' he thought as he reached the destination and his hands moved towards the branches. 'Was it hit?'

His fingers barely touched the dried leaves of the bush when they suddenly started shaking and a head, a human head, rose to the surface.

None of them breathed for a second. Then, the boy let out a sound from the back of his throat, half whine, half growl, but which sounded more animal-like than any noise Yahaba has ever heard.

Yahaba's eyes widened as his alcohol-induced brain tried to process what was happening.

He saw short golden hair with spots of brown. He saw sharp eyes with anger hid within. He could recall the sound transmitted by the other.

And the conclusion seemed clear enough.

"Oh shit!" he screamed, taking a full step back. "You're the dog! Shit... That's not possible."

But as he kept analysing the strange figure in front of him, he noted the resemblance. It wasn't that far-fetched, right? He saw it in a movie once.

At his words, the boy's expression changed from anger to confusion and he opened his mouth to articulate something.

"Don't!" Yahaba raised his hand to stop him. "If you try to speak you'll probably bark and it'll be even more wierd than it already is for the both of us."

He was panicking. Losing it completely. But, at least, the other understood his words and closed his mouth without any complains.

"Ok," started Yahaba, breathing in. "So you were a dog. And now you're not a dog. You're human. That's fine. Normal, even. Happens every day, just like -"

As a reminder, another bolt of light coloured the sky, interrupting him mid-sentence. Yahaba stopped and stared at his surroundings, finally remembering where they were and the state they found themselves in.

"Oh, right. You can't stay here. You'll catch a cold or die or something." He contemplated the situation for a few moments. "I'll let you stay at my place until the rain stops. My parents are gone for a few days and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you go now. You're still a dog, after all."

The rain started to fall even more heavily as he spoke. They couldn't stay outside for much longer.

"Lets go," he said, lowering his hand to grab the other's shirt - because, apparently, dogs, when transformed into humans, get such things out of thin air.

The other boy let out another strange sound from the back of his throat but allowed Yahaba to grab him and drag him out of the bush, showing little to no resistance. His eyes were sharp and focused, extremely guarded as he observed Yahaba's every move. His presence was intimidating in every way possible, yet the visible curiosity hidden in his irises gave a wierd sort of acceptance.

With his hand around the boy's wrist and the destination clear in mind, Yahaba started to walk away from that spot and cross the street in the direction of his home. He was glad the other wasn't struggling - it would've been a problem if he did.

It took them about half an hour of running in the rain to reach the gate of Yahaba's house. As soon as they walked inside the building, Yahaba dropped his hold in order to turn on some lights and start the heater. The lack of contact got another growl-like sound out of the boy, having no problems when it came to showing his displeasure.

The surprised look Yahaba had thrown his way had been brief, but still present.

"Don't get attached," he said. "First thing in the morning you're out. This is just until the storm stops."

He left the boy in the hallway while he went inside the kitchen to prepare some tea, not knowing what to do or say anymore. It was wierd, after all. What was he supposed to say to a dog, no matter how human he looked? Especially since he seemed like such an angry one. When he came back with two mugs of hot liquid five minutes later, he found the boy in the same place he had left him, an uncomfortable and constipated look taking over his features.

"You don't need to sit in front of the door like a dejected puppy, you know? Get inside, it's warmer."

The boy stared at him and nodded once, moving past Yahaba and further into the house. Yahaba had no idea if that small gesture was supposed to be one of understanding or gratitude, but paid no attention to it as he followed the other across the hall and entered the living room.

The clock showed the hour to be minutes past 2 AM. Surprisingly enough, Yahaba didn't feel sleepy at all, the frustration cumulated at the party earlier that night turning into energy and a wierd sense of purpose now that his house ended up invaded by such a strange presence. With each hand busy with a heated mug, he sat on the couch and patted the place beside him as invitation for the other to do the same.

He didn't. Stopped in the middle of the room, a conflicted look in his sharp eyes and lips pressed into a thin line.

"What's the problem? Don't you wanna sit?" asked Yahaba.

He didn't understand. What was the deal?

The boy grabbed his own shirt, letting out another throaty sound as his eyes were focused on Yahaba's. He seemed to try to deliver a message and it took a while before Yahaba's mind finally caught up.

His shirt was dripping. So were his shorts, leaving a puddle of water on the floor.

"You're wet," remarked Yahaba, intrigued. "From the rain. Because we've been outside. And I'm probably extremely wet as well. And I'm sitting on my parents couch." he continued, feeling the need to end with a powerful "Fuck!".

He jumped from the couch, almost dropping the tea in the process. In the place he sat, there was a huge stain thanks to his own stupidity.

"I'm such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot!" he shouted, not caring that he was making a scene.

The boy stood by his side awkwardly, an almost amused expression visible on his face.

"You! Don't make fun of me! Be thankful that I didn't let you out to die so drink your damn tea!" exclaimed Yahaba, pushing one of the mugs into the other's hands, not caring how impolite he was behaving.

The boy grabbed it instinctively, and stared the the liquid for a bit before lowering his head to take the first sip. If he liked it or not, he didn't show it. Yahaba needed a few more moments before he finally calmed himself in order to try his own drink, buy once he did, he found his mind becoming less foggier and clearing enough to understand more of the situation they were it.

"You seem to drink that thing in a more normal manner than I expected. I thought you were going to shove it down your throat all at once or something," he said, finishing the tea.

The now familiar throaty noise came as an answer.

"And I think you understand what I'm saying. Which is wierd, you know? Most dogs don't and try to bite me whenever I try to pet them. It's like they hate me for a reason. Donno why. But you didn't bite me yet, so I guess that's a good thing. It must have something to do with the fact that you were tuned into a human, right? That would explain it. Even though I'm not sure if your natural instincts were supposed to stay or not."

Another noise. It was almost like it was more than just a one-sided discussion. Yahaba felt less crazy to be talking to himself.

"Geez, I should take a shower and change my clothes," he said our of the blue, surprising both of them. "Those are sticking to my skin, it's disgusting. If I don't take them off now I'll probably catch a cold and I really don't have time for that."

The boy almost jumped at his words, panic clear in his eyes. He already finished his drink as well and was unconsciously tracing the linear pattern on the mug with his index finger, but as soon as Yahaba finished talking, he stopped mid-motion.

"Yeah, you're right. You'll get sick too if you don't do the same. Stay here, I'll go get a shirt and some old trousers of mine."

Before the boy could protest, Yahaba already left the room, leaving the him alone for the second time in less than half an hour.

The boy sighed defeated.

"Great." he said, finally using his voice after so long. "How the hell am I supposed to get out of this mess?"

Kids used to laugh at him for acting like an animal but nobody has taken it that far before. Nobody actually believed him to be anything but human. And this... this... This stupid boy with an even more idiotical pretty face whose whole image seemed to scream ponies and fluffness, but who actually was able to swear even worse than a sailor, had the fucking nerve to confuse him with a dog.

Just... What the hell?!

"How drunk is this guy?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Who even has that much imagination?"

Kyoutani - this being the name of the boy - had no idea whether to be angry or impressed by how far things have gone. He had been coming back from the gym, tired both physically and emotionally, when the rain started and he slipped in the most ungraceful manner possible inside the bush the dude found him in. He hadn't been expecting that interaction and had no idea what to say or how to react. He panicked and simply froze, choosing to go with the flow as much as possible. Or until the dude got bored and walked away. Who would've even thought that everything could escalate so quickly?

"At least the tea tasted good," remarked Kyoutani, looking inside his mug for any sign of remaining liquid.

Yahaba came back soon after, the promised clothes in one hand and a towel over one of his shoulders. He didn't seem to have heard anything, treating Kyoutani in the same way he did from the beginning - like the dog he believed he was.

"The color sucks, I know, but I'm sure you won't care about that. C'mon, take them," said Yahaba, throwing both pieces of clothing at him, which he caught without a problem.

Kyoutani observed the shirt and trousers with some interest, noticing that, indeed, the color was disturbing, it's neon shaded orange too intense for his tired eyes. It seemed to be a pair, both having a square-shaped logo placed on the front.

'It looks like a pijama for retarded people' noted Kyoutani in his mind bitterly.

He narrowed his eyes and growled at Yahaba, surprising even himself at how used he had became to playing the role of an animal.

"Don't act like one of those pretentious girls from my school. Put them on already." said Yahaba, rolling his eyes.

Eyeing the horrible design once again, Kyoutani dragged his calloused fingers over the neon material. Then, he turned around and took off his still wet shirt, letting it fall near his feet, and gripped Yahaba's useless shirt even more tightly, preparing himself to put it over his head.

'Wait,' he stopped mid-motion. 'Don't I have to wash my body before this?'

He moved his head back towards Yahaba and prepared his throat for another specific sound, when he suddenly froze at the sight in front of him. Because there, less than two meters away from him, stood Yahaba almost completely undressed, his lean chest in clear view and pair of dark grey boxers hanging low on his hips. He wasn't looking at Kyoutani this time, instead being focused on arranging the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor.

'How can someone so stupid be so fucking beautiful?' Kyoutani asked himself, still ogling at the other's undressed form. 'Thank God he's intoxicated enough to be stuck in his own little world.'

He fought the blush that risked to color his entire face when the Yahaba finally finished with that completely unnecessary cleaning and their eyes made contact. It was a sight, really. And with each second, Yahaba's uncovered chest tempted Kyoutani even more.

And he wasn't one to refuse to act according to his instincts. But right then, he just couldn't give in. He swallowed, denying the fact that he was turned on by guy, and moved his attention back to his face, where it belonged.

"What?" asked Yahaba, as if sensing his distress. "Dont tell me none of your neighbours ever dressed up on front of you. I'm the one wierd out, not you."

'It doesn't look like it,' thought Kyoutani half-bitterly as he resumed to put on the clothes that Yahaba provided him with, choosing not to react in any way.

When he finished this trivial action, Yahaba addressed him again.

"Good, you're done. Take a sit on the couch - that huge thing I laid on earlier. Your not that wet anymore so it wouldn't be a problem. Just ignore the dampness on the left side. It won't take long for me to take a shower, so don't bite or scratch anything while I'm gone, ok?"

'Thank you for the input. I'll try to behave.' felt Kyoutani the need to be sarcastic, but even in his own mind, the words sounded hollow, his whole focus still on the figure on front of him, despite the fact that his body moved as instructed.

Figure which, as soon as it had seen Kyoutani comply and sit on the untouched side of the couch, turned its back - that pale and perfect back - and took off in the direction of the bathroom.

It took Kyoutani a grand total of ten seconds before his remarkably slow mind registered the true meaning behind Yahaba's words.

His eyes widened almost comically before the panic kicked in.

"Fuck!" he shouted as he jumped from the couch, the only reason the sound failing to reach the other being the running water. "I've got to go. NOW."

Because the chances of Yahaba waking up from that intoxicated state of his were getting higher with every new moment, especially with the help of a cold shower. And Kyoutani really couldn't afford a visit to the police if the guy came back and realised that he had let a total stranger inside his house and started to throw a fit.

No. He had to leave before things escalated even more.

With trembling hands, he quickly grabbed his own clothes, still placed at his feet, and looked around for any remaining proof of his existence in the house. Thankfully, he saw nothing too incriminating, which was a good sign.

He knew that there was no chance to return the clothes in time, and even if he could, where was he supposed to put them? It would only make it more obvious.

'I can't deal with this right now. I'll bring them back in a few days, anyway. Things should be fine then.'

That was the plan.

So, before he wasted even more time with God knows what, Kyoutani ran into the hallway and towards the door, opening it without any problems and closing it behind him as he started to sprint down the street. The rain was still falling, but no thunder was in sight. It was manageable, allowing the boy to keep pushing against the pavement with even more force.

He didn't look back - refused to do it. Refused to even think about that place anymore or about that strange guy or how he was going to react once he noticed Kyoutani's absence.

'Would he even care?' Kyoutani asked himself. 'Probably not.' he added, the thought leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

But the truth was, he kind of wanted Yahaba to care, to remember him. That was not how things worked, and he knew it. In the real world, pretty boys like Yahaba got pissed drunk, did something stupid, and the next day had no recollection of the night before.

Kyoutani was that night's stupid thing.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

And soon enough... He was going to be forgotten as well.


	2. Bubblegum and Pettiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Yahaba has no chill and the whole universe is against him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new chapter is finally here! I hope I didn't leave any spelling mistakes this time. Tell me if you find anything, guys.

There are few things as embarrassing as getting pissed drunk at a party and then getting kicked out. But finding a guy on the streets, bringing him home after calling him 'dog' countless times, forcing him into your ugliest clothes and leaving him alone in the living room as you are taking a shower... And ending up falling asleep in the bathtub... That was one a completely other level.

And Yahaba did them all in just one night.

"Ugh!" he let out with frustration while trying in vain to digest the half-assed meal he had prepared for breakfast. Of course he couldn't eat. His mind kept racing and racing and racing, going over the dezastruos sentences he had said to the boy.

' _Why can't the earth just swallow me whole?'_ he thought, pushing one of his hands through his newly washed hair.

He chewed around that sandwich for a long time, everything feeling tasteless on his tongue. He couldn't concentrate on anything but the pieces he still remembered from the previous night. His head wasn't pounding anymore, which was a good enough sign, but the stupefaction of what he had managed to do because of some glasses of alcohol... That couldn't just go away.

' _Thank God my parents weren't home. There's no way I'm telling them what happened. I'm lucky the guy wasn't some rapist or a thief.'_

He didn't even want to imagine how that scenario would've worked out.

He had searched the house as soon as his mind had cleared and found everything in its place. With only an exception - the ugly neon set bought by him grandmother (which should've been thrown out years before). That one was missing.

Yahaba didn't regret finally getting rid of that fashion disaster. At all. But the image of the boy wearing those clothes, his distaste clear to Yahaba despite his unimpressive state, was probably going to haunt him for a while.

' _The guy allowed me to do that to him. Like... Who does that? I treated him like a dog for an hour. Belittled him. I undressed in front of him! Was him some sort of weirdo? Why didn't he say anything?'_

For real though... Yahaba couldn't understand. He didn't look drunk, didn't steal, never initiated anything. Moreover, he allowed to be moved around, to be talked down, to be acted with like a puppet.

Yahaba almost wanted to find the guy and ask what his real deal was. Too bad that wasn't very likely to happen.

 _'There are thousands of teenagers in Miyagi. The chances are too slim_ ,' he thought bitterly.

He didn't have a name, an address, nothing. It would've been like chasing a ghost.

And he definitely didn't have the time to go searching for a guy he basically abducted from the streets. No, he was going to make sure not be to late for his first class, talk to the team, apologieze for the party and continue living his normal, eventless life like nothing weird ever happened.

Yeah, that was the plan.

* * *

 Until it wasn't.

Less than three weeks after he decided to ignore the fact that he allowed a stranger to wall into his house, Yahaba saw him again. Alone, with his back facing the setter, and a bag of groceries hanging by his fingers, he stood on the same bus that Yahaba constantly used to come back from school, when Watari's parents were too busy to pick them up.

Yahaba flinched at the sight, motion easily picked up by Watari, who stood comfortably next to him.

"Yahaba? Are you ok?"

"Y-Yeah," he answered. "Why do you ask?" he added, hoping that his initial shutter would be left unnoticed.

Watari opened his mouth for a second before he decided against it and said nothing. Instead, he stared at him, following his line of sight until his vision was, too, focused on the weird boy staying a few meters in front of them.

"Who's the guy? Do you know him?" asked Watari.

Yahaba's eyes never left Kyotani's back as he replied, his voice sounding a bit more like his usual, calculated self.

"Not really. He just seems odd, don't you think?"

"He's extremely stiff, that I can tell. But odd? I'm not sure. You know I'm not as good as you are at reading people. Even though Oikawa is the real monster when it comes to this," he said before adding in his usual humorous way. "The hair, on the other hand, is quite interesting. What do you say, Shigeru, don't you wanna try it too?"

He was smirking. Of course he was.

Yahaba turned his head towards him with a grimace.

"I'd rather die than live with such a horrific haircut." he said.

"You'd stand out even more than you already are. Isn't that something you want?"

"Not if it means sentencing myself to a life of sadness and despair."

"You can be so dramatic sometimes," remarked Watari, tone full of fondness.

"Please, you love it." replied Yahaba with exercised confidence, throwing a short, subtle glance at the now missing form of the one because of whom this whole discussion started.

 _'He left already? Did he even notice me?'_ Yahaba thought somehow disappointed. Of course, he would've never taken a step forward to start a conversation or interact in any way, but seeing some sort of recognition might've been interesting. Or, at least, could've taken at least a part of the guilt away, considering the way he treated him.

"I don't have a choice now, do I?" he heard Watari say as continuation to his last words, even though Yahaba could barely remember what he had spoken. Knowing himself, probably something smart and charming.

"No, you don't," he said, grinning back at Watari. It was quite fake and thankfully, Watari didn't see anything suspicious since he didn't comment on it as he normally would have. Yahaba was grateful for that - the last thing he wanted was to give explanations about the circumstances under which he met the guy. No way in hell he'd do that.

The rest of the way home was uneventful, simply exchanging opinions about school, teachers and playing strategies. That was a ground Yahaba was comfortable walking on. He fell back into that easy rhythm after a few minutes, all thoughts of dogs and strangers pushed at the back of his mind until much later.

Months later, actually. Aproximatively two.

* * *

Once every few days, Oikawa demanded to meet after practice for 'captain-y' duty, usually to talk about the future of the club. Most of the times, it was just the two of them, discussing strategies, training Yahaba's serving form and his setting and spiking. Sometimes Iwaizumi joined too, only watching from the sidelines for the majority of the time and only stepping in to point of some things that Oikawa missed to explain, and sometimes, like it happened that day, Oikawa forced Yahaba to join him on his babysitting time.

"Stop whining, Shigeru-kun. Takeru loves training with you. It's going to be adorable." exclaimed Oikawa, dragging Yahaba out of the school grounds, sounding way too excited for someone whose nephew found pleasure in bullying his annoying uncle on every occasion.

"The only adorable thing that will happen will be seeing his disturbed and disappointed face once he realises that not only did you not come alone, but you even brought me along. I remember very well how it went last time," said Yahaba, trying to keep up with Oikawa. "Besides, wasn't this supposed to me my training time? How does throwing the ball at your nephew apply to that?"

"It is training! You must learn how to accommodate any spiker that crosses your path, dear kouhai of mine. You should be thankful. Very few people will ever get the opportunity to set to an Oikawa."

Yahaba raised one of his eyebrows.

"Wasn't he from your sisters side of the family?"

Oikawa dismissed him with a wave of his hand, the other still pulling Yahaba towards the park they were going to meet the little beast.

"Those are just details, Shigeru-kun! The blood is the one that matters," he said cheerily, increasing Yahaba's annoyance to new limits with those two phrases.

He faught the urge to say something back, rude, of course, and quite unrecommended, considering Oikawa's infamous vengeful nature. The last thing he needed was to create even more problems in his already way too complicated life due to his own pettiness.

"Of course, Oikawa-san," he said instead, finding somehow the inner strength to deal with him patiently, like the good underclassmen he was hoping to come across as.

So he allowed to be thrown around, presented to Takeru like some kind of gift and then used as a personal setter while Oikawa stood behind eating bubblegum flavoured ice cream. The kid wasn't bad and, to be honest, had a chance to become quite a skillful spiker one day, but the whole thing was making Yahaba feel frustrated. And it was definitely showing.

After his second too low setting and missed spike for Takeru, Oikawa started to put his disappointment into words. It had started with an almost silent 'Tsk' and continued with full lectures.

Like the petty person he was, Yahaba's only answer was to toss higher and higher, until the ball's trajectory went long past the normal, which only made the tosses even harder to hit.

Takeru didn't comment on it, not even when the ball flew over his extended hand, ready to attack. He only allowed a small whine to escape past his dried lips, before he got ready to jump again, with clear determination in his eyes.

To him, Yahaba's messy techniques was a challenge. To Oikawa, it was a disappointment. And Yahaba hated it.

He tossed one last time, the ball making contact with his fingers in a way that just screamed _wrong_ and, before he even had the chance to lower his arms and turn to Oikawa to throw exhaustion as an excuse, Takeru jumped. The trajectory was too short, too on his left. There was no chance he could reach it, at least, that was what Yahaba thought. Takeru, on the other hand, had no intention on giving up anything. With his right arm still up, he extended his left one towards the ball and smashed it across the field, _right_  in the back of someone's head.

The moan of pain emitted by that person went unnoticed by Oikawa, who literally dropped everything - sweet, tasty bubblegum ice cream included - and attacked Takeru, taking him into a awkward embrace and sqashing him in the same manner small children tend to grab onto their favourite toy.

"I knew all Oikawas were meant for greatness! My sweet nephew, the future of volleyball is in your hands!" exclaimed Oikawa, tightening his arms even more around the poor kid's frame. "Such a perfect spike! And even after that terrible, terrible toss."

"It was an accident though," said Takeru, trying in vain to push his uncle away.

"Nonsense. The potential's there, I can see it. With willpower and hard work, you'll be able to score against any opponent - both hands ready to strike. Two!" he turned to Yahaba. "Can you imagine that, Shigeru-kun? Ushiwaka will become nothing more than a distant, forgotten memory! It's it exciting?"

In that moment, however, Yahaba couldn't care less about Ushijima or Shiratorizawa. He was still pissed off about what happened earlier and angry at himself for missing so many shots. Oikawa seemed to believe that an accident - because that was the whole deal - was going to suddenly make Takeru ambidextrous. It was bullshit. Total crap. And, thinks to this, Oikawa and the kid were too excited to notice their surroundings anymore.

The guy who got hit by the ball was still standing in the middle of the road with his back turned, shoulders shaking with barely controlled anger.

Yahaba looked at his companions once again, hoping that any of them would be decent human beings and stop their weird celebration and apologise to that dude for using him as target. Judging from Oikawa's sparkling eyes and annoying shouting, the chances of it happening were dim if not non-existent.

 _'I hate_ _my_ _life_ ', thought Yahaba as took the matters in his own hands.

"Hey!" he shouted, approaching the guy. "Sorry for that, they're both uneducated idiots, but they didn't mean to harm you. It was an accident."

The other froze at the sound of his voice, turning his head towards Yahaba immediately.

When their eyes met, Yahaba didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Because he knew the guy - how could he not when all that embarrassment was still too new, too fresh, despite the months passed.

"Oh..." he said intelligently. "Well, this is awkward."

He couldn't even blame himself for not recognising him. He was wearing one of those oversized baseball caps, thrown lazily over his unusual haircut with its front facing the back, and Yahaba almost cringed at how childish that made him look despite his rough appearance.

Surprise was clear in his eyes until it was replaced with anger, which changed his whole expression.

He growled once, deeply, at Yahaba, and, before the setter could react, he turned around and walked away.

At least, he tried to, because if there was one thing that defined Yahaba, it was stubbornness.

"For real? Don't tell me you actually believe that would still work on me." Yahaba shouted after him. Seeing no desire to slow down, he decided to move along, driven by his own curiosity. "Hey! Dont ignore me!" he added, gritting his teeth.

Kyoutani was basically running at this point. He would have preferred dying over having any conversation with Mr. Fancy Drunk on any given day. He didn't need any other complications in his already too crowded life.

"Stop it, you shithead! I only want to talk!"

That made Kyoutani stop reluctantly.

"About what?" he had thrown over his shoulder after he heard Yahaba getting close. His other companions - the little kid and the dude with the annoying face - were far behind, clearly unable to hear any of their words. "Do you have some leftover dog food and you don't know what to do with them or what?" he added.

"I wanted to apologise. Don't be a dick." said Yahaba, clearly ennerved by this point. "For the ball. And for _that_."

"Ok, done," Kyotani said emotionlessly. "I'm leaving," he added, already resuming his earlier walk.

"For the love of... I wasn't finished!" yelled Yahaba, stomping his foot harshly on the ground.

This time, Kyoutani didn't care what the other had to say. Despite Yahaba's obvious anger, despite the fact that he, himself, was quite curious about the whole outcome, he moved. Left as swiftly as he could.

Yahaba watched him distance himself once again, finally understanding that forcing a discussion was never going to lead him anywhere with that prick.

"I would've never taken you to be into brutes like that, Shigeru-kun. I'm surprised," rang Oikawa's voice from his left, startling him.

"Oikawa-san! Yahaba exclaimed, straightening his back instinctively. "When did you get here? Where's Takeru?"

"Gave him money for ice-cream as reward," he answered with way too much cheer in his voice to be normal.

Yahaba wasn't fooled.

"You conditioned him to buy you another one of those blue things, didn't you?"

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing. It's bubblegum! Everybody loves bubblegum."

"I don't," was Yahaba's simple reply.

Oikawa gasped dramatically. Yahaba ignored him.

Of course, this lead to a full monologue about the lack of appreciation towards one of the 'best flavours in the world', Oikawa gesticulating aggressively while explaining the reasons why bubblegum was so special in front of his clearly uninterested kouhai. Yahaba allowed him to talk knowing full well that once Oikawa started his nonsense, nothing could stop him - with the exception of Iwaizumi-san. He couldn't give less of a fuck about flavours or Takeru's way too long absence.

He was somehow grateful that the discussion changed from it's initial subject. He had no idea what he could have said to Oikawa if he kept asking questions. If was quite a surprise that he didn't question him further. Yahaba couldn't even believe his luck. For an unknown reason, nobody seemed to be able to hide anything from their captain. And he really wanted to keep his embarrassment to himself.

Besides, there wasn't that much to tell. He got drunk, looked like an idiot in front of a stranger and then fell asleep while showering. That was all.

'The worse part is that I haven't been able to look any dog in the eye for the past few weeks thanks to that incident. Not even small puppies.'

He doubted he was going to meet the guy again anytime soon and, even if he did, now he knew that he had absolutely no reason to interract in any way. He did his part - he apologised, it should've been enough. It wasn't his problem that dude's personality was utter shit.

' _Just for the record... Next time I'm seeing him, he'll leave only after a bloodied nose and a swollen lip_.'

Not that Yahaba would actually do that. But dreaming never hurt anyone.

After Takeru finished his pineapple dessert, they resumed their earlier positions and played some more for like half an hour before all three of them got bored and decided to call it a day.

Yahaba couldn't wait to throw himself face first on his bed and sleep for a century. He was way too tired to do anything but that. All thoughts regarding the dog guy could wait until the next morning. Or the one after.

All he needed in that moment was to sleep.

 

 


	3. Tomatoes and Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who said things ever go smoothly?

Kyoutani wasn't a coward, no matter how you looked at him. A teenager with anger management issues? Yes. An awkward guy? Even more so. But a coward? Hell no.  
  
The problem was, picking up fights was like a second nature to him. Be it with kids his age or even older, he just couldn't help it. Why talk to that guy - the pretty one who dragged him inside his house - when the only way he could see it ending was badly. For both parties included.  
  
He had a bad temper, he knew. Even if the boy wanted to apologize for what happened, he would've somehow found a way to turn the apology into an argument which, because of his character, would definitely end with curses and punches. It was better to leave, to stop that nonsense before it got even worse.  
  
"Kentarou, are you finished there? I need help with the laundry" shouted his mother for the backyard, interrupting him mid-motion. He stopped the ball as it fell to the ground and kept it in his arms as he answered.  
  
"Coming," he said, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand before taking off in her direction.  
  
He'd have to postpone his usual practice for much later. He didn't like that, he loved the feeling he got whenever he managed to hit the ball with all he had and send it on the western wall only to have it jump right back at him. That contact - between the rounded surface of leather and his rough palm - when it happened just as he wanted it to be, helped something shift in him. Drowned the tension in his shoulders and calmed his thoughts. It was the only thing he considered to be beneficial for him, for his worsening temper.  
  
If anyone else would've asked him to leave in the middle of it, he might've spit in their face or ignored them altogether.  
  
But it wasn't anyone. It was his mother.  
  
"Take those and hang them to dry," she handed him the pile of colorful shirts as soon as Kyoutani reached her. "Don't let them touch the ground like you did last time, please."  
  
"Fine."  
  
He didn't need to be told twice. That had been an accident.  
  
It had taken him less that half an hour to arrange everything like she wanted and, when he did, he grabbed the ball once more and returned to his practice zone.  
  
After ten minutes, she called after him again.  
  
"Kentarou, I forgot to tell you about the shopping list."  
  
"What?" he grimaced.  
  
"I want to cook something for tomorrow, when Hajime comes to tutor you. Could you go Yendi to buy some tomatoes and sugar?" she asked him, coming out of the house.  
  
"Do I have to?" he muttered grumpily, already knowing her answer.  
  
"Don't act like such an old man," she said affectionately. "It won't take long, I promise. If you take the bus you'll be back in 40-45 minutes."  
  
"Too long." he said, playing with the ball in his hand and turning it over.  
  
"I'll let you play for two more hours after you come back. Just... Help me with this. You know I hate to leave a bad impression."  
  
Kyoutani sighed, defeated. He couldn't deny her anything, really.  
  
"Give me the money and I'll be on my way," he said, watching her beam at him as she took out the cash from her purse.  
  
"Here. Don't waste them on candy!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Do I ever?" he retorted while he throwing the bills in his pocket.  
  
Five minutes after, he was already getting inside the bus.  
  
It wasn't too crowded, thankfully. On a normal day, it would've been worth celebrating to be able to find a place to breath at such an hour. But to even see a seat available? That was new.  
  
Not wanting to waste such an opportunity, Kyoutani hurried towards the seat before anyone else could. He had a long way to go and standing was only going to make his legs ache instead of conserving his energy for the rest of his volleyball practice. Besides, he really didn't like being touched by strangers, even by accident, which happened quite a lot when he was standing in front of the door.  
  
As he lowered his body to seat, he didn't pay too much attention to the form standing - or, more correctly, sleeping - besides him. He usually didn't care who stood by him as long as they minded their own business. And, by the amount of drolling that person seemed to be doing on the window his face was pressed into, they wouldn't even care.  
  
Squirming into that uncomfortable piece of plastic, Kyoutani sunk his hand into his pocket to check his phone for any new messages. His mother had the tendency to keep adding things to his shopping list even after sending him off. After the fourth time that happened, it had become some sort of tradition to wait for any new surprises.  
  
He barely even scrolled past his second contact in the agenda before the bus made an abrupt stop, forcing his whole body forward. He managed to find his balance in due time thanks to one of the nearby pillars but the person standing next to him didn't have the same amount of luck.  
  
As he was falling face-first into the floor of the vehicle, Kyoutani had a split second of consideration for the guy in which he actually wanted to extend his hand and catch him before he hit the ground.  
  
_What if he doesn't want me to touch him?_ thought Kyoutani, making him hesitate enough so that any rescue attempt became too little and arrived too late. 

  
The guy crushed into the floor with a huge 'bam' and woke up instantly, groaning.  
  
"For real?!" he shouted, raising his head enough to look in the direction of the driver and hiss in pain. "Was that even necessary?"  
  
Kyoutani recognized him before he got to see his face and, for the third time in less than four months, he wished he could just disappear and not deal with any of this.  
  
_It seems it's not me who got hurt this time, huh?_ was the only decent thing that went through his mind in that moment, quickly followed by.  _Maybe he'll be too fucked in the head to notice me._

  
Quite a horrible thing to think of in front of an injured acquaintance, right? If Kyoutani could even call him that.  
  
However, luck was never going to be on his side anyway.  
  
Before Kyoutani even had the chance to avert his eyes, Yahaba's gaze caught his, turning the whole situation into something out of a badly written sitcom.  
  
"No," had been the only thing Yahaba had said, almost spitting the word out before he got up from the ground. “I really don’t have time for this as well.” He maintained the eye contact as he moved to take back his place. His eyes, even if warm and welcoming at first glance, morphed slowly into something harsher, presenting a certain iciness inside their brownish colour. It was anger in there, and Kyoutani had no idea if it was still focused on the driver or if it had passed on to have him as victim.  
  
It made him feel uneasy and that was something that he didn't like at all. Loathed it even.  
  
Kyoutani waited for him to sit beside him, following his small movements with dread. When the guy did, he didn't turn around like Kyoutani expected him to.  
  
A minute passed like that, the sound of the doors being closed filling the background. The tension in the air only seemed to get worse.  
  
And Kyoutani didn't have the time or patience to wait for the other to speak up.  
  
"Aren't you going to say something?"  
  
Yahaba raised one his eyebrows at him mockingly.  
  
"What for?"  
  
He was pissed off. Obviously.  
  
"To force me into another uncomfortable discussion." Kyoutani said bluntly. "You seemed to like those."  
  
"Not really, " Yahaba said, throwing a smile at him, one sweet and fake, that's he's seen on his captain enough times to be able to duplicate almost perfectly.  
  
"Good. I've had enough of your whiny voice."  
  
Yahaba's smile dropped as he looked at him incredulously before he exploded.  
  
"Excuse me?! Can you ever NOT be an asshole?"  
  
Kyoutani might have not liked the intense feeling he got by facing the other head on, but that didn't stop him from continuing this nonsense.  
  
"Probably not." replied Kyoutani, confidence clear in his whole posture as he kept his head high.  
  
Even though he sucked at anything that involved social interactions, Kyoutani knew boys like Yahaba, who acted all mighty. Pretty boys that were all bark with no bite. He could crush those easily if he wanted.  
  
"You're such a dick," Yahaba stated, face twisted in something that seemed to resemble disgust.  
  
"Is that all you've got?"  
  
"No, but really... I haven't done anything to deserve this shit. So stop."  
  
"I don't think I will."  
  
Why was he doing this? Because he was having a bad day? He was sure it must've been worse for the guy, since he had been the one to get his face splashed into the floor just a few minutes before, yet it was his own mouth that kept delivering the nastiest things, not his.  
  
He was turning everything into a fight again, wasn't he?  
  
Why, though? Was it adrenaline? No, he knew how that one felt, and it wasn't like that. He couldn't quite say what was the reason why he wanted to push as many buttons as possible, but he was intrigued by the boy’s presence.  
  
It was weird. They haven't even exchanged that many words. They didn't know anything about each other. Apparently, it didn't matter.  
  
"I swear, if we weren't in such a public place, I would've punched you by know," threatened Yahaba, clenching his fists.  
  
"You don't have the guts for that," said Kyoutani, perfectly aware of the emptiness of the boy's statement.  
  
He'd never touch him. In any way. He surely was too 'precious' to lower himself to such an extent.  
  
Apparently, Yahaba didn’t agree, judging from the way his eyes darkened.  
  
When the doors opened, marking another stop, Kyoutani didn’t even get to shout of surprise before he was dragged out of the bus, Yahaba’s fingers tightening in the material of his shirt. ‘  
  
“The hell?! Who do you think you are?” Kyoutani let out aggressively as soon as his feet touched the ground. “I still had three stations left!”

"That's too bad," replied Yahaba, smiling at him sweetly for a mere second before his features hardened again, seriousness tacking over every centimeter of his body. "Now," he added, throwing the word out of his mouth harshly as he used both his arms to lift Kyoutani off the pavement (taking the boy totally by surprise) and force him into one of the pillars standing near. "Who is the one without guts?"

Kyoutani swallowed uncomfortably. He did not like the way this turned out. At all. He opened his mouth to reward Yahaba with some other witty phrase, but the ferocious look given to him was enough to make the words die on his tongue. Even the hands holding him up had presented an unexpected element. They were quite rough, not soft like a baby's butt, like Kyoutani expected.

"No answer, huh?" he had the nerve to sound satisfied with himself. The sound was annoying enough to wake up Kyoutani and make him want to punch that smirk off his face.

"Still you" he bit back, still sounding weaker than he intended, despite the small growl at the end.

Yahaba kept his staring a second longer before he exhaled, letting Kyoutani go.

"Fine, be that way," Yahaba said, taking a step back. "What even is your name? I find it weird to label you as an asshole without knowing it first.".

Kyoutani was slightly surprised by the question, but not of what followed next. The guy was already clearly positioned under the jerk description in his dictionary. The difference was that he didn't need a name to attach to the picture.

"Kyoutani," he answered. He refused to say more than that.

"Yahaba Shigeru." The guy regarded his hand with the corner of his eye, as if he expected to shake hands or something.

"Don't care." was the clear rejection.

"You should. Considering our luck, we might meet again."

Kyoutani didn't think of hiding his annoyance.

"I seriously doubt it."

Yahaba didn't seem that convinced, but he, too, wasn't showing signs of anticipating a future meeting. Quite the opposite.

"We'll see." And with this being said, Yahaba turned around to leave. He raised a hand as sign of farewell. "Even though I hope not. Try not to get hit by a car on your way." He added bitterly.

Kyoutani couldn't stop his mouth from running.

"Try not to get lost while searching for hair products, cuttonhead."

Despite the newly created distance between them, Kyoutani still heard the Yahaba's laughter clear as day. It wasn't fake, but not 100% real either. A pretty strange combination to any unfamiliar ears.

No other comeback followed. The sound soon faded into the numbing chit-chat of the road and Yahaba's form vanished in the sea of colours, as if he never existed.

 _Bye, shithead_ , thought Kyoutani as the soon as the boy made it's exit. He didn't move for a while, watching, thinking of nothing in particular. Only when a stranger bumped his shoulder into his did he blink properly, regaining his focus. That's when he realised just how fast his heart was beating.

 _It's that adrenaline thing again?_ he wondered. _I don't like it._

But him liking this effect had no importance. He knew that. However, he chose not to dwell too much over such matters.

After all, he left home with a purpose and he was still three stations away from his destination. And thanks to this whole adventure, he barely remembered what he had to buy.

He didn't think of Yahaba anymore until he reached his room, one hour later. Not once.

But... As soon as his body touched the bed, history book in his right hand, his mind started to race into all sorts of directions, going over phrases said, motions and traces of brown. And it didn't stop. Even for a second.

He didn't practice that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter, guys!! Every comment means so much... You have no idea. I love reading about your thoughts and opinions! So please, if you see anything wrong about spelling, grammar or characterization, tell me! I'm not a native speaker and there might be things that I overlooked or didn't know.


	4. Volleyballs and Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!

"That's unusual. It's the third time you've messed up a problem like that today," Iwaizumi told Kyoutani as they looked over the last math exercise.

Normally, the page would've been full of messy writing, numbers thrown around in a hurry until the end result came to the surface. And it really wasn't the case in that moment. There was no clear solution, no bolded answer in sight. Only cuts, scratches done with a black pen on paper line after line over different strategies that led nowhere.

Compared to other academical subjects, math seemed decent enough in Kyoutani's eyes. You either knew it, or you didn't. Nothing was that subjective and no unnecessary amount of communication was needed - just a bit of brain, some overused formulas, pen and paper. He didn't need to read between the lines of a poem he barely understood ten percent of, wasn't supposed to remember countless years of wars and schemes of one-sided alliances.

Iwaizumi came to tutor him four times a week, leaving him his old notes for a few days and explaining what seemed unclear. He had patience with him, without being pushy like he had expected at first. And the best part was that, at the end of each two or three hour session, they both went outside to play voleyball, Iwaizumi's experience and skills unleashing Kyoutani's unexpected respect. Kyoutani looked up to him, wanted to reach that level of speed, strength and calculation of each movement. And he could only do so if he listened to every explanation regarding boring subjects like history as well. The length of their practice was in direct proportion with  his understanding of each subject. Iwaizumi was very strict about that.

That's why, when he was stuck with a look of disapointment, he couldn't help feeling it twice a much,  knowing very well that his chances of working over his crosses were lowering even more with each mistake.

"Did something happen? Don't tell me you practiced that late again, Kyoutani!" said Iwaizumi, letting the frustration be visible on his face. Kyoutani couldn't blame him, though, it wouldn't have been the first time.

 _I wish,_ he thought almost mockingly.

"Just tired," he answered instead. "Haven't slept much."

"Why?"

Kyoutani wanted to snort at the question. There was absolutely no chance that he was going to simply blurt out the real reason - that he spent hours thinking about an annoying guy he kept meeting randomly.

"No reason," he said. Iwaizumi didn't question him further.

They went on with the next subjects, Kyoutani trying as hard as possible to stay concentrated the whole time. But with every miscalculation, it became clearer and clearer that the extra practice session flew out the window. When Iwaizumi got up after an hour and a half of pure torture, it came with no surprise the lack of mention of volleyball.

"Try to memorise all the data regarding the Cold War for the day after tomorrow. You'll find it in my third notebook - the one with a huge wolf on it - at the beginning, and if I remember correctly, the title should be highlighted in yellow. I'll bring you the test I  had last year to see how much of that you've understood and after that we'll deal with some chemistry." said Iwaizumi to him as they reached the door.

Kyoutani nodded, understanding fully what he needed to do.

"Oh, and before I forget," continued Iwaizumi, taking out a piece of paper from his jeans. "I talked to the coach and he said you're welcome to come to our practice match this weekend. Just show this at the gate when you arrive. They'll know what it's about."

Kyoutani took it immediately. It wasn't often when he got to watch Iwaizumi play with his own team and, whenever he did, it felt like some sort of accomplishment.

He nodded again, this time as a sign of gratitude. He did that a lot around Iwaizumi, he didn't know why. Maybe because it was their thing, or because he just couldn't trust himself to say anything right, but it didn't feel totally uncomfortable.

Iwaizumi left soon after that.  
-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

"Why does everyone look so fucking bubbly? Isn't this a school?" mumbled Kyoutani as he walked past the gate and his eyes ran across each unnervingly happy student. "Shouldn't they be crying in a corner or something?"

He immediately felt compelled to hit a ball into the face of a kid or two just to see some tears. He didn't because of the following reasons:

1\. It would end up as way too much drama.

2\. His mom wouldn't appreciate it.

3\. Iwaizumi wouldn't invite him to a match ever again.

And he really couldn't risk the third.

With his back arched forward and a look on his eyes that would've been described by others as scary or pissed off, he marched towards the gym, completely ignoring the whispering happening around him. It was inevitable, he guessed. He was an outsider, a stranger, and definitely not the charming kind. But nobody approached him, so he had no other choice than to feel thankful for that much. He hated when he had to interract with people, especially ones as fake as most students.

When he entered the building, the first thing he noticed was the girls. More than twenty in number, all smiles and unneeded energy, throwing praise and screaming a certain someone's name in a way that seemed almost rehearsed - that's how much in sync they were. Kyoutani wanted to gag from the sound alone. He knew the boy they were desperately shouting about, their 'precious Oikawa-san'. And he wasn't impressed, quite the opposite actually. He found it stupid that they chose to use all that energy to worship someone like Oikawa when Iwaizumi was just as close and definitely better in all aspects.

Not only that but, considering how crazily they acted, even if Kyoutani wasn't as gay as a fucking unicorn, he would have never spared them a glance longer than necessary. They were disgusting.

That's why he chose to sit as far away from them as possible. Found himself a nice chair (all of them were nice, thanks to those money-sucking monsters), and lowered himself on it just in time to see both teams enter the gym.

Aoba Johsai was dressed in their usual turquoise-ish attire and, for the eleventh time, Kyoutani couldn't help noticing just how hideous the colour was for volleyball. Turquoise was for girls - period. Anything would have been better. Especially black or red, those always worked for any sport.

Not that their opponents were any better, all yellow and lemon-like. Kyoutani pitied them.

None of them seemed as strong as Iwaizumi either. If it didn't end up quickly he was going to be disappointed.

Oikawa started the match with his usual serve soon enough. Powerful, striking, it was everything a played might have wanted as a skill, but no matter how many times he executed it perfectly, Kyoutani's respect for Oikawa never came. His only guess was that it probably had something to do with knowing from Iwaizumi what a pain in the ass he was and how childish he acted outside the court. He was also smart, his eyes searching for every little weakness of his opponents and using whatever he got to win the match. But there was something terrifying about it, that frightening look of hunger for power making him look like a chess piece straight out of hell compared to the image seen by all those oblivious girls.

Kyoutani would have never accepted someone like him as a setter - not willingly - despite how much he wanted to play on such a large stage. He couldn't trust him. Respect was out of the equation.

Maybe that was another reason why he looked up to Iwaizumi like he did. He was able to match Oikawa, take everything the setter had to offer and turned it into a cannon of pure power. The same went with their verbal interractions - for every line full of mocking stupidity coming from Oikawa, Iwaizumi had something to deliver back. Be it a ball to the back of the head or an insult.

Hit after hit, Iwaizumi managed to steal the spotlight on a scale that nobody would have ever matched. Perfect spiking. Perfect reciving. Perfect serving. That meant points and a huge win for the first set.

There were other players in there too, but none that valued enough to have his attention.

The game was in Aoba Johsai's favor. And judging from the simplicity of the other team's strategies, there was not going to be any change of plans.

After the first half of the second set passed and the score showed 14 - 04, Kyoutani was sad to remark the dullness that has taken very the entire gym. He didn't get the other team - why come here if they were so weak? Why not train more before battling teams way out of their league? Why settle for defeat? Why?

Nothing could change the facts however. Their chances of winning were slim.

Apparently, Iwaizumi's coach felt the same because, after another one of the spikers marked the 15th point, he motioned for one of his reserve players to get ready. At first, he eyes ran over his frame indifferently, noticing long legs and little to no muscles on his arms. The colour fitted him well, though, so that was a plus.

Only when one of the girls let out a gasp, followed soon after by the others, did he take a better look at the boy.

And his heart started pounding.

"They can't do this! They're going to switch out Oikawa-san!" cried some plain looking blonde loud enough to be heard by him even from that distance.

"Yeah, they shouldn't," agreed with her some brown haired brainless chick standing close. "Oikawa-san almost won the game. Why risk it by involving Yahaba in this?" (No Yahaba-kun, no Yahaba-san, not even Shigeru. Just 'Yahaba', said in the most monotonous way possible. As if he wasn't part of the team, as if he didn't even matter.)

He didn't analyse their words - just shoved them to the back of his mind - and kept staring at Yahaba with a much clear mind. Now that he was looking properly, he couldn't understand how he didn't see it at first. It was him, no doubt about it, doing something supernatural to that damn uniform to make it fit him that well and looking more uncomfortable than ever at the same time. He was shaking, especially his hands.

 _Is he nervous_? thought Kyoutani, somehow surprised. He had expected the boy to be a mass of confidence, judging from the way he styled his hair and behaved most of the time.

But he was, and nothing could change that. And when the switch actuary happened, it only got worse.

Suddenly, the girls stopped shouting. Then, as Yahaba got into position, more than half of them had the nerve to leave.

"It's going to suck now. What a pity..." was also heard in the whole gym.

Nobody said anything at that comment. Nobody moved a finger. They were all waiting for a reaction from their newly switched teammate. His eyes were glued on the ground, fingers still trembling by his sides. It had only lasted a moment and, once it passed, Yahaba's hands stilled and his face moved from the floor to have his eyes now focused straight ahead, a determined look in his irises. He didn't have that lamb face anymore, he became a predator.

With a simple nod shared with the rest of the team, he gave them the sign to start. One of the unimpressive spikers served. A strong recieve followed from the opponents and went straight past Iwaizumi and into the libero's hands, which, in turn, brought it into Yahaba's arms. He didn't hesitate, didn't even blink. Just sent it to the closest spiker like a cannon - full of power and so swiftly that he almost expected it to either dissappear or explode at the touch of his fingers.

It appeared to have been too much for the spiker, who only managed to touch it and send it out of bounds.

Kyoutani cursed under his breath. He knew he could have taken it if he were there, on the court, running and sweating next to the others. He wanted to be there - he was itching for it.

He supposed Yahaba had the right to be angry at his teammate, after all, his toss had been fantastic. He didn't get why Yahaba's features, instead of anger, twisted into a look of pure frustration and words of apology left his mouth unfiltered. It wasn't fair, it wasn't normal for him, it made him look once again like some sort of prey.

The determination was lost and didn't come back for the rest of the game.

They still won the set, but only barely, due to some other unforced mistakes.

Kyoutani saw everyone shake hands, saw them all leave one by one and he turned around to exit the gym as well. Then stopped, hearing the harsh sound of a lone ball hit the wall once, then twice, and over and over again.

Of course it was Yahaba. Of course he was practicing after a practice match and of course Kyoutani had to be there to witness it. It was stupid, it was pathetic and, at the same time, it was none of those things at all.

The frustration was back full force, and, this time, so was fury. He was attacking the ball, treating each toss like something close to a spike, with him not touching, but punishing the rounded surface.

Kyoutani watched for a few minutes in silence. After that, he threw all precautions out of the window.

"There are better ways to let out some steam than that, cottonhead," he said.

Yahaba didn't turn in his direction, didn't even flinch. Kyoutani opened his mouth to repeat the words when Yahaba hit the ball one final time in one furious spike.

"I shouldn't be surprised, right?" came almost immediately. His voice sounded rougher than usual. His whole body was also tense. "The one time I'm allowed to play in a game and the one time I royally screw up - that's when you decide to show up."

Kyoutani didn't know how to answer to that. He's never been good with words and that wasn't going to change just because of this.

"What's your deal, Kyoutani?" he continued, this time turning, whole face red because of the effort and the inner turmoil. "How the hell did you even know I was here?"

"I didn't," he answered. "Don't look at me like that, it's the truth. Iwaizumi invited me."

At first, Yahaba didn't seem convinced, then he let out a little "Oh", followed by "So you are the kid he tutors sometimes."

Kyoutani snorted. He wasn't a kid, for fucks sake.

"Says the princess," he bit back.

He already understood how things went between the two of them - they insulted each other, constantly, meaninglessly, until one of them backed off. That was their thing, and Kyoutani almost - just almost - enjoyed it. That's why he remained speechless at the lack of the usual answer from the other.

"Princess, huh?" Yahaba said instead, voice void of emotion. "If you mean as useless as one, you got that right."

There came again that stupid, pitiful looking face. Kyoutani hated it.

"Fuck off," he said. "That's not what I meant."

"Still true though. I don't even know why they still keep me around. They have the captain now, they'll have a setter next year. Definitely better than I will ever be. There's not much he'd have to compete with, anyway."

And then he started to use that fake smile of his, as if to say 'I'm fine. I'm used to it'. It was a depressing sight. And annoying as well. But saying it out loud wouldn't have helped in any way (not that Kyoutani wanted to help), so Kyoutani chose to ignore it.

"That means you'll settle with being a zero?"

Yahaba struggled. "At least I tried. Retiring in your second year is normal, nobody will be disappointed with me because of it."

Kyoutani wasn't supposed to get angry at those words. He wasn't supposed to care. And yet..

"Coward. That's what you are." he almost spit the words out.

"What would you like me to do then, Kyoutani? Make the bench warmer for the rest of the season? Hope to get to play and not make a fool out of myself?" He sounded exhausted, empty. He looked defeated.

Kyoutani didn't have any magical answers to give him. He wished he had, but he didn't. All he had to offer was silence and some sort of understanding.

Yahaba didn't wait for an answer, he probably wasn't even expecting one at all. He just grabbed the ball and continued to hit it against the wall.

After the sixth hit, Kyoutani spoke.

"Toss to me."

Yahaba dropped the ball.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You heard me," said Kyoutani with confidence, arms crossed against his chest.

"Do you even know how to play?" asked Yahaba. "And, in case you haven't noticed - I shouldn't be here right now. So I don't have any place to toss to you properly."

"Of course I fucking know how to play. And I wasn't talking about here. I'm not stupid, I know I'm not authorised to set foot on you'd stupid court anyway."

Kyoutani thought for a second. "The park will do."

Yahaba still didn't seem convinced, but decided to went with the flow. "Which park? The one where we met the other day?"

 _...and I delivered the ball that ended up in the back of your head?_ went unsaid.

Kyoutani nodded. "Is tomorrow fine?"

"If it's after practice, yeah," accepted Yahaba.

"Good. Don't be late," said Kyoutani as he turned around and left the gym.

Yahaba stood there, dumbfounded, for a good few minutes, blinking repeatedly. He wasn't completely sure what was happening. He still wasn't completely sure if he had imagined the whole exchange or not. All he knew was that the match was over and he was too tired to deal with anything in that moment. He wanted to sleep, to turn off his senses and just hibernate for a few days.

He sighed. He definitely needed a break.


	5. Calls and Calmness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Hope you'll like it.

_There's no chance he'll actually show up,_ thought Yahaba as he watched the repetitive movements of his watch with boredom. It was a realistic ideea, really. After all, that whole day had been blurry and the chances of him misunderstanding something were pretty high. It wouldn't have been the first time that happened to him either.

Besides, what reason would Kyoutani have had for coming? To help him improve? Yeah, sure...

And yet, despite his scepticism, Yahaba was still there, sitting on the ground right next to an oak tree, with a ball placed on his legs, and waiting.

_I'll leave in about three minutes. I don't want to waste more time than that._

He looked at his watch again. It was pretty old, a gift from one of his cousins, and worn-out. Yahaba loved it for an unknown reason. He refused to wear it at school and only took it out if the bag once he left the school grounds, but he adored that stupid watch.

"Why are you here so early?" came a rough voice from behind him, making him jump and automatically place his watch out of sight. "Thought you had practice until six."

Yahaba should've really been already used to Kyoutani's presence. He was not, not even close.

"Can't you just say 'hi' like a normal person?" he complained, standing up.

"Why should I?" he replied with annoyance. He had that look on his face, the one he had on the day with the bus incident, which made him seem so full of himself and so damn smart. Yahaba loathed that image of superiority. It was one of the few things he had in common with Oikawa - they both hated to lose, hated to look stupid and inferior.

They way they dealt with those things made the difference. While Oikawa trained with everything he had to become better, Yahaba accepted his condition, accepted the fact that certain things could never changed, no matter how hard you tried. Rules didn't apply to Oikawa, they never did, but Yahaba was no exception. He wasn't gifted. He was meant to sit in the dust and waste his life doing mediocre things in a mediocre society.

"You're right. I'm sorry for assuming you'd ever be normal." he said to Kyoutani.

Why was he like this? What did he have to win out of acting like a bitch in that moment? Kyoutani came all that way to help him, he was supposed to act grateful, not like this.

It was no wonder Kyoutani's features twisted into something unpleasant after he spoke.

"Do you want to play or not? I'm not the one needing this shit," he said, eyes narrowed and mouth transformed into a thin line.

Just one curse? Yahaba was surprised. He expected more.

But leaving it all aside, Kyoutani was right. Yahaba was the one that might've had something to win out of their meeting - of course, unless Kyoutani had been playing some sort of pointless game and knew nothing about volleyball whatsoever. That would've been just sad and quite pathetic. Yahaba was kind of expecting things to work out that way.

He still needed to be civil though. At least for the sake of the discussion they had the other day in the gym. That one had been almost normal. It deserved to be celebrated somehow.

"Are you sure you know how to play? I asked before, I'm aware, but..." he started, trying to act like a more decent person. He hoped he managed it.

"Stop being a useless prick and take the damn ball!" shouted Kyoutani, interrupting him, apparently already out of patience.

"Fine, ok, I'll toss," agreed Yahaba immediately, still not convinced. "Calm down, please. I don't want to make a scene."

Kyoutani just blinked at him, his expression unchanged.

"Don't blame me if you embarrass yourself," Yahaba still felt the need to add for an unknown reason.

He grabbed the ball and sent it to Kyoutani in a full arch, almost gently. He didn't bother with timing, or with a clear distance. It wasn't as if they were in the gym, with all the space in the world to just let go of all control. Besides, Kyoutani wasn't part of any team - from what Yahaba knew about him so far, which really wasn't much - so there was no need to pay attention to all those details. The chances of Kyoutani seeing through him were slim.

And Yahaba should've taken his usual scores in maths into account before making such assumptions. Probability was never one of his strengths.

Because Kyoutani watched the movement of the ball and it's whole evolution. His eyes narrowed even more - if that was even possible - and his feet sank deeper into the ground, refusing to move an inch.

The ball hit the ground with a muted sound. Yahaba turned to Kyoutani, a number of profanities already on the tip of his tongue, and stopped at the sight of his anger.

"The hell was that?" Kyoutani raised his voice at him, his tone giving away a lot of unwanted disappointment.

"You called for a toss, I gave you a toss. Wasn't that what you wanted?" attacked Yahaba as well.

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not mocking you!" came Yahaba's exasperated reaction. Was it a bit exagerrated? Yes, but Kyoutani didn't need to know that.

"I've seen you play, asshat. I know that's not how you toss." The comment was still said using an unpleasant tone, despite it's message. Maybe that's why Yahaba completely missed it's meaning.

"You've seen me play once," he replied just as aggressively as before. "And that was a horrible game for me. Don't act as if you know anything about it."

Sometime during this whole argument, they had both stepped closer unconsciously and, somehow, Yahaba's index finger found itself forced into Kyoutani's chest to strengthen his point. It felt strange and uncomfortable on both sides, but none said a word about it and just kept going.

Or, at least, Yahaba did.

Kyoutani, out of madness or just an overflow of emotions - probably going from anger to disgust - decided to take things even more out of proportion and grabbed the hand touching him by the wrist, twisting it upwards, so that the back of the hand was facing the ground.

"What the -" exclaimed Yahaba, taken by surprise.

"Shut up!" shouted Kyoutani once again, doing wonders to mute him up. "I've seen enough to know. To know and aknowledge all the wasted potential that you're throwing away without a second though."

He was convinced of what he was saying. His sharp eyes made that clear enough.

Maybe that was what made Yahaba break. And turned his bewilderment into some sort of crazed, hysterical laughter.

"Potential?! What are you even talking about?" he laughed as he displayed one of the largest (and most unnatural) grins ever. "What wasted potential?"

Kyoutani stared at him incredulously for a few moments, as if searching for something in pericular in Yahaba's eyes. If he found it or not, Yahaba never knew.  
It didn't matter because, once he was finished, he tightened his grip on the wrist in his hand.

"Is this yours?" he asked, motioning at the hand in question. "Are those yours?" he added, taking even the second hand in his.

"What...?" whispered Yahaba, not having a clue about what was happening to him, but aware that the whole situation and being manhandled like that was just weird.

"I was there the whole game. I watched that first toss. Just because the spiker didn't know what to do with it doesn't mean it was bad."

Kyoutani let go of his hands and turned his head to the side, breaking eye contact.

"It was a good toss. Powerful." The shape of his mouth changed into a sneer after that. "And then you decided to become all weak because of some stupid feelings."

Yahaba's madness faded into something stuck between desperation and frustration. Both feelings seemed to be found quite often in him.

"You don't get it," he shouted. "I'm a setter, not a spiker. I'm not supposed to give powerful tosses! They're supposed to be high and easy to grab, not spectacular or flashy."

"Why not both?"

"Because that's not how it works!" Yahaba was heavily gesticulating by then.

Kyoutani didn't hesitate this time.

"Send it to me again. But not the crap from earlier. I want the same setting you've had for your spiker," he demanded.

"You can't work with something like that. Not even Kindaichi could," mumbled Yahaba, mostly to himself.

But, despite his words, he did as he's been told, taking a step back and following Kyoutani's movements as he launched the ball with everything bit of strength he had.

And Kyoutani didn't disappoint.

He jumped and, with a twist of his arm that was either godly or animalistic, but definitely not human, he slammed the ball into the ground.

Yahaba' s been playing volleyball for enough time to be able to see with the eye of his mind their position on the court, the net, the lines of the court. Kyoutani's spike touched the imaginary line.

It wasn't ideal, but it was so much more than Yahaba would've ever expected.

He saw the speed. He saw the force. He saw the movement.

Something unknown curled inside his stomach.

"Who taught you that?" he asked, the words leaving him before he could even process them.

Kyoutani seemed unimpressed by the question.

"Iwaizumi taught me."

But that answer wasn't something that Yahaba could just accept. That couldn't be it. He's seen Iwaizumi-san play countless times and his way of playing had nothing to do with Kyoutani's.

"Do you believe me now?" asked Kyoutani, changing the direction of the discussion.

"Huh?"

Yahaba was still thinking about Kyoutani's hit. It was kind of difficult to focus on anything else.

"That it's not impossible to use that move of yours. And that you can do this if you quit whining."

Yahaba found it strange how Kyoutani words were so close to being actually supportive. Didn't comment on it though.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked anyway.

"Don't look too much into it. I want to play, that's all." his voice still sounded rough, but Yahaba understood the fact that the tone had nothing to do with truth. It was a cover most of the time for Kyoutani. The only reason Yahaba could see to do so was to keep people at a safe distance.

He accepted the answer as much as he could. If Kyoutani wanted to help him in order for him to play as well, Yahaba was fine with it.

"I'll give you another one," he announced as he got into position - legs slightly spread, arms relaxed in front of him.

Kyoutani nodded.

Toss. Spike. Repeat.

They passed to each other, worked, sweated in sync for God knew how many minutes minutes, maybe even hours.

Not every exchange was perfect, but neither were they and nobody expected perfection from day one. And yet... It was nice. Uncomplicated.

It lasted enough to take away all of Yahaba's worries and to make him enjoy volleyball in a way that he hasn't felt in a long time.

Kyoutani was still kind of closed off and lacked any social skills whatsoever and, in a weird, unconscious way, Yahaba was glad for it. He didn't play for scholarships, for girl or rivalries. He only played to improve, to get better, to give all he had.

Yahaba wouldn't have minded to have him on the team. He was powerful, his spikes a bit - well, more than a bit - too brutal for a simple park full of children. They had to stop a few times due to certain small accidents - like almost hitting a child or a couple that decided to sit on a spot of grass too close for their own safety.

They only stopped when Yahaba's phone started to ring and he hurried to accept the call, dreading already to talk to the person on the other side. Not because he didn't enjoy having them around on a daily basis, but he knew what the call was about.

It regarded a group project with Watari and two other guys and he really didn't feel like meeting up when he was so utterly tired. He still had to, though.

"I have to go," said Yahaba once he hung up the phone.

When he looked back at Kyoutani, he noticed a trace if uncertainty in his posture.

"Next time," he started, coughing nervously before adding "When?"

Yahaba tried not to seem startled by the question. He really did.

"Ugh, yeah, sure," he answered and almost cringed at the sound of his own voice. "When would you like to meet?"

He was the one that needed as much help as possible. Asking was the polite thing to do.

"You're the one with complicated timetable," snorted Kyoutani.

Well, he wasn't wrong about that.

"Then... How about the same time tomorrow?"

 _Geez, that wasn't desperate at all. Way to go, Yahaba_.

But Kyoutani apparently didn't mind it. He just struggled and threw out a simple "Fine by me."

They parted ways after that, both deep in thought and with a serene calmness circling them. The only difference was that Kyoutani's thoughts also carried a doze of shame and regret.

 _I shouldn't have grabbed his hands like that,_ he closed his eyes, disapproving of his own behaviour and remembering those few moments way too vividly to be normal. _Who even does that?_

It had been an instinctual action. He did it for a good reason and it had worked for Yahaba's benefit, but it still felt wrong to extend his arms and just touch something (or someone) that was not his. And would never be.

That wasn't even the worst part about it.

When Yahaba's finger touched his chest, his brain stopped working. He remember those hands - how they had treated him on that day after the bus incident. He's been fascinated by them then and apparently, he still was.

They shouldn't have gotten that much of his attention.

But they did, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He didn't want to think about Yahaba's hands. Didn't want to hold them again. Didn't want to have them on him or anything else.

Kyoutani hated not being the best at everything he did, but even he couldn't deny that he was horrible at lying to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what possessed me to write something like this, I swear! But I don't regret it. This is only the beginning so I'm open to suggestions and advice if you have any ideas on how I could improve. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
